Thursday 23 October 2008

Wet Windy Leaves by Chris Crittenden

hunchback imps
slouch over pawls
of tousled grass,

serving as sprockets
in the clockwork
of the lawn,
telling time in fits

moored to quirks
of gusts-
flip-flopping
like unhappy turtles,
then mousetraps
on a lark,

snapping
in false danger,
nipping each other's shreds,
groping

wistfully,

as if they might be stars
in a swatch,
granting a child's wish
with every stagger,
every galumph.




Chris Crittenden, Maine, USA

3 comments:

Gordon Mason said...

I'm sitting here at a window watching the leaves do each of these descriptions! I really like the words 'tousled' 'sprockets' and 'galumph'.

Crafty Green Poet said...

gordon - the poem suits the weather here too, I'm guessing you're in Scotland just now then?

Gordon Mason said...

Aye! You're richt!